


Blessed are the poor in spirit

by Aititeal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel's Past, Dubious Consent, F/M, based on episode from S12 Ep 10 lily sunder has some regrets, morally ambiguous Castiel, something is rotten in Heaven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27746386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aititeal/pseuds/Aititeal
Summary: They came on Earth to complete a mission. As Second in command sent to watch and learn under Ishim's lead, Castiel will soon discover every nuance of this adage: To know is to suffer.Inspired by the episode Lily Sunder has some regrets it is my take on what could have happened during this gruesome mission in 1901.
Relationships: Castiel/Crowley (Supernatural), Castiel/Ishim (Supernatural), Crowstiel - Relationship
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

  
**Blessed are the poor in spirit.**

* * *

-"Ishim."   
  
An authoritarian hand stopped him from going further. He looked at his second in command with deep attention as she probed the area.   
  
-"Sulphur," she continued. "I perceive the presence of a demon in the vicinity."   
  
\- "Where?"   
  
Impassive Castiel showed no sign of emotion, only power emanated from her borrowed body. Blue plume of smoke that her grace created surrounded her. An unfortunate proof of the soldier immense difficulty to maintain herself in the vessel. Inexperience had proven hard to occupy a mortal body while pushing her capacities to the fullest.   
  
-"Next town."   
  
Good, Ishim could not deny that Castiel was his major asset to fulfil this specific mission, excellent soldier, fleet, keen, intelligent and first and foremost obedient. An angel's angel. Her unusually acute senses would identify an inhuman presence in no time. The traitor could not hide any longer for heaven's fury to descend upon him and his human whore.   
As for the demon it represented nothing more than an insignificant obstacle standing in their way.   
He gave the order to his Section of Angels to get to the closest town.   
  
They stood on a hill. Overlooking the view Castiel walked farther, separating herself from the group.   
Closed eyes and nose up she filled her lungs to the fullest her limited vessel could allow. From her hands blue light progressively extended until reaching the brittle grass.   
On earth nothing was ever silent, sound of wind blowing through leaves, howls and shriek from animals, the deafening racket of their own moves. Everything sounded so discordant. How could Castiel focus this way?   
  
Her investigation would not get her farther, so she sheltered herself back into the vessel occupying every part she had been allowed to inhabit.  
In order to speak she took a deep breath, her vocal cords vibrated producing the sound of her own voice, a calm, silvery voice.   
  
-"I lost it, demons usually stay in one area it should hide out nearby," she bluntly informed.   
-"Mirabel, find the most local inn. We'll be staying here for the night." Ordered Ishim to the silent angel beside him.

Mirabel stood up straight and swiftly acquiesced with a nod, she's been under the Throne's command since the dawn of time, thrones established garrisons all over the Earth to ensure Humanity's safety and thriving. It was an honour to be assigned on such mission.   
  
-"shouldn't we keep on looking for this demon?" interrogated Castiel, deeply puzzled by her Sergeant's request.   
-"we'll attract too much attention wandering around all night, he thoughtfully explained. Humans are wary creature, all preys are.  
Their houses and apparent sophistication conducted them to believe in their invulnerability, a false impression of security but their instinct knows better.  
They got eyes and ears everywhere, you'll learn soon enough."  
  
Far from being embarrassed by her inexperience Castiel absorbed Ishim's words hoping to satiate her thirst for knowledge.   
Wasting no time, Mirabel spread out her wings and disappeared. A few seconds later her resounding voice was heard and they immediately flew in her direction.   


Despite being quite worn out the inn appeared big enough for the six angels. Ishim delivered two pieces of luggage he was carrying around; he gave one to Benjamin and another to Mirabel.   
Benjamin accepted it and held the suitcase next to her. She distanced herself from the group staying two feet behind.  
Castiel examined her friend with attention; from the vessel containing her grace to the way she could stay so perfectly inside it. How powerful the angel looked standing up straight and proud as the soldier she was, proud and still. Not many brothers from the Celestial Army could serve under angels from superior rank, Benjamin and Castiel were the exception.   
  
-"Oh no!" Grumbled Lauviah, a Seraph specially requested for this mission as she served along with the traitor they were seeking.  
  
Castiel was unacquainted with her and the other Seraph Mebahel who stood right next to her. She knew their names and rank of course; it was an intrinsic nature, yet Seraphs rarely interfered with mundane matter and common angels. Then again exceptional circumstances call for exceptional measures and two were sent to retrieve and judge one of their own.   
Castiel didn't feel it right away, but she understood her sister's protest when two drops wetted her collar, soon the atmosphere and the air became saturated with humidity and impatience.   
  
Ishim stayed impassive, he called Castiel next to him and offered her an escort arm, he spared her the trouble to ask the purpose of this gesture.   
  
-"Humans are very formal creatures, status and codes are important, we stand as human beings therefore we must act likewise.  
You incarnate a woman Castiel, so it's customary to walk alongside a man holding his arm as husband and wife."   
  
Lauviah and Mehabel got closer to mimic this peculiar behaviour. The angel comprehended the need to blend in but felt nervous doing so. Limited contacts with humans surely would be proven safer.   
Benjamin stayed behind clutching the leather bag, Mirabel too. Ishim and Castiel would be the first to enter. The rain was now pouring.   
She gripped her Sergeant's arm too firmly. She had no time to think or adjust for Ishim suddenly opened the door and entered.   
  
The heat coming from the fireplace was as welcoming as the innkeeper's greeting. The warm atmosphere would surely alleviate the weight caused by her drenched garment, heavy on the shoulders.   
A pungent smell coming from the leftovers was spreading across the room, something greasy and hearty. To investigate further might cause her grace to leak out of the vessel, so Castiel tried not to pay attention, to focus on one thing only. It suddenly became easier for nothing could compare the overwhelming sensation of the throne's hand now resting on hers. 

For the Angel had never touched nor been touched, she naturally tried to associate this gesture to something familiar and failed.   
It was pleasant, not the skin contact itself, that she couldn't make her mind up and was standing as far as possible so she wouldn't inadvertently brush the Throne with another part of her body. No, it was the delightful novelty of it; everything constituted an assault on the senses in this human form and she would never get tired of this overwhelming sensation and the way it differed from Paradise's stillness. Came what may Castiel wanted more.   
She considered Ishim as worthy of respect as he appeared so well versed in human behaviour and social customs. Of course, as a Throne, he was expected to possess a vast knowledge on this specific matter yet Castiel known that he executed heaven's duty masterfully, the Sergeant lived to dedicate himself to God's glory and that was something to be admired for. If she was willing to learn he was the best mentor she could get. 

The innkeeper, a little, portly man, exhorted them to come closer,   
Ishim took two steps and Castiel managed only one trying to distant herself as much as possible from the man. She stiffly turned around to look at her siblings trying to catch a familiar face, to glance at the grace's evanescent dance. Benjamin's grace, so simple, lacking in colour and magnificent and yet reassuring for she shared the same plain angel essence. The others shined so bright it was almost blinding whereas her friend flickered similarly to a distant candle in the draft.   
Come to think of it; Benjamin was still standing at the threshold.   
  
-"I'm terribly sorry sir but my hotel is not mixed I'm afraid."  
  
Castiel turned abruptly, why was the man afraid? Was something wrong?  
She materialized her blade inside her sleeve, letting the sharp coldness caress her hand, she waited for an order, a gesture, ready and alert. She looked directly at him without blinking, the face she didn't dare to even cast her eyes upon appeared to her in every detail, the swollen veins on the side of the nose, a patch of hair on his chin that haven't been shaved, a discoloured ring around the irises. The puffiness around his eyes conveyed an impression of fatigue, a weariness he also held onto his slightly humped back.   
  
-"A vacant maid's room would suffice. We had a long journey. We need to rest. My wife is exhausted."   
  
The innkeeper took a sight of Castiel at his left and flinched. He quickly directed his eyes on Ishim again while clearing his throat with a raspy sound.   
  
-"My reputation would be at stake if I allow a coloured woman in my establishment," he continued anyway. "It's a small town and we don't have a lot of them around here."   
-"It's pouring cats and dogs out there!" Ishim pointed out with his hand toward the door while he still insistently stared at the man.   
  
No cats or dogs were falling outside yet this little lie Ishim concocted seemed to work on him. Humans certainly weren't observant or intelligent. At least not this one. A look at the door and the six angels expectantly waiting and he finally let out a sigh.   
  
-"Alright I do have something for tonight."   
-"You're a very urbane man."

Another deliberate lie, this male clearly lived in a rural area. Castiel gulped to ease her throat. To learn or to imitate was one thing however she severely lacked the imagination to improvise the way Ishim did so fluently.   
She maintained her weapon well hidden under her sleeve and mindlessly fidgeted with a fold her dress created. She kept twisting it as Ishim guided her to their bedroom, an iron key in his left hand.   
  
-"Will we stay in a room separated from everyone?" She asked as she observed the two seraphs going through another stair.   
-"Absolutely, do you mind?"   
-"No."

Castiel pondered why this blunt question sounded so unsettling to her and realised one ever interrogated her about her consent. She was ordered and expected to obey, Ishim acted differently. A calm and composed authority based on loyalty and acquired respect. She hoped to prove herself worthy. 

  
The dingy stairs creaked under their weight. The innkeeper had lighted their way to the bedrooms yet their vessels greatly altered their senses; limited vision when under their real appearance nothing could be concealed, spoken communication whereas angels soundlessly and intuitively expressed themselves. Palpable, tangible, diminished world. The immortal soul barely visible at the solar plexus could no longer amaze her former absolute sight. 

  
Her finger wiped dusts while she held herself at the banister. The wall lights flickered and projected shadows of the picture frames hanging at the wall. Photographs of loved ones, a woman sitting on a chair her hand resting on a dog's head, another portraying the same woman holding a child in a white dress, a man proudly posed beside her. Despite their lack of expression, these pictures carried an impression of serene happiness. Were they destined to be happy? She wondered looking at the child snuggled up against his genitor. First reflex of a human right after birth was to fill the lungs with air.   
Instinctive breathing, this could not be lost while being possessed, Castiel's first intake of breath, overwhelming and so sudden she would never forget how it felt. Children cried at birth, the pain, the deafening noise, the overbearing glare of the light... How could humans reach happiness when their initial experience with life revealed itself so dreadful.   
The flame warmed up her rosy cheeks for she stayed too close to the wall light. Ishim's hand gently patted on her back encouraging her to climb up the last few steps. In the staircase dimness she experienced Ishim's touch differently, she appreciated his attention, he acted out of familiarity or so Castiel thought; every gesture was still hard to interpret. She lifted up her gown to avoid walking on it as she did a few times already and followed the Throne.   
  
The room they shared was furnished with a large bed covered with a thick feather duvet, an imposing wardrobe slightly eaten by woodboring beetles. It released an acidic odour of residual pesticide. The dressing table by the smell of it suffered from the same treatment. Its mirror tarnished with black spots had seen better days. Above the bed, hanging on the wall a silvered metal cross and a framed picture depicting the Sacred Heart.The shutters at the windows were closed yet the rain still pouring outside could distinctly be heard.   
Already Castiel missed her siblings although she received reassurance from Ishim who every so often gave her silent instruction on what the angel was examining.   
Meanwhile Ishim opened up on the bed the piece of luggage Mirabel left at the door. It contained some clean clothes, and he proceeded to put aside a white cotton nightshirt as well as a long-sleeved nightgown from the identical material. He closed the suitcase with a distinct click and sat on the edge of the bed.   
  
He gestured for Castiel to come closer. 

-"Take your clothes off."   
  
Castiel asked if she was expected to wear one of those and saw him acquiesce with a nod of his head. 

Castiel unbuttoned the vessel's clothes for the first time. Astonished by how easily she managed to undress until realising she couldn't bend to remove her skirt, however this movement, Ishim could achieve it without any problem.   
She quickly became aware that what she thought was her vessel's impairment was in fact her corset. She unbound her bustle pad tightly tied around her waist and began to unlace the corset. Once removed she adopted a more relaxed position and yet missed the comforting sensation of pressure the dainty garment offered.   
Castiel diligently laid down every piece of clothing in order, too afraid to mix them up tomorrow morning: the chemise, the petticoat, woolen stockings and finally her open drawers.   
She reached for the nightgown when, with a distinctive voice Ishim, still sat on the bed invited her to come right in front of him. His contemplative gaze never left her. He kept looking at the vessel, methodical and meticulous. 

-"Turn around."   
  
That way she perceived her reflection in the mirror of the dressing table, she mindlessly looked a herself but didn't care to see the naked body of her host. Ishim carried on with his inspection. Wordlessly he grabbed the angel by the hips to turn her anew.   
  
-"What's this woman age?" The Sergeant interrogated.   
-"She's thirty-two," Castiel unhesitatingly answered.   
-"She possesses a vigorous constitution, still young enough to conceive. Slightly underweight yet healthy," the Throne enumerated.

  
He observed the belly closer, the skin covered with very pale scars seemed thinner than the rest of her body and dangled. A cold finger followed a white line up to her navel.   
  
-"How many full-term pregnancies?"  
  
Always prompt and relevant Castiel informed that the woman had gone through two pregnancies and brought two male infants into the world.   
  
-"That's prudent," Ishim whispered. "They must be taken when they have already bred. If any harm is done to the vessel the lineage is unlost," he enlightened.  
-"Is she your true vessel?"   
-"Yes"  
-"Are you struggling to stay inside?"   
  
Castiel found herself nervous, even shameful. Yes, yes, she was struggling. The vessel, she knew, could perfectly resist to her grace. Although the barrier that constituted the flesh, that tangible obstacle irritated her, limited her in what the soldier of the lord was capable to accomplish. Her celerity, her ingenuity adapted poorly to those restrictions.   
Castiel tensed, she could swear a painful vice was squeezing around her neck tighter and tighter until leaving her almost breathless, livid. Once more, an unfamiliar physical sensation linked to an emotion. Was Ishim in the grip of such feelings? He appeared so composed. 

-"Only a formality," He concluded. "I see you take a significant part in Heaven's affairs once this mission ends Castiel."   
  
His gentle hands, still warm on her skin, travelled to her waist. He was standing at present, and she straightened her posture as to mimic her superior. Her chest going up and down, up and down again, swiftly.   
Castiel stayed still, her arms hanging on both sides, motionless. She should touch him too, maybe. The soldier imagined how the fabric of his clothes would feel if she stroked it, allow it to slide down on her fingers. She wanted it to be rough, to sense every bump, scratch it with a nail to test its coarseness. She lifted up a hand when Ishim prevented her from doing so.   
  
-"Since the beginning of mankind, since their very first articulated language I have observed, I have wisely guided. I'm watching over them without judgment,  
uncover the way to the righteous path, to the life they've been offered and the afterlife they deserve.  
I'll teach you everything I know and now I've requested you as my Second in command so watch and learn. In a few centuries you'll be leading armies."  
  
She had no time to react when he carried on.   
  
-"Stay attentive to any sign from the demon. He won't leave town if he has any business here."   
  
Castiel nodded reproducing the gesture she had seen earlier.   
  
Ishim kept on studying her face, his hands carefully going up to the shoulder blades and then down to the waist. He eventually stepped aside to sit down the edge of the bed and invited the Angel to put the clothes on. 

  
How peculiar, the persistent sensation of touch, remaining so long as if her skin forbad her to forget her superior's presence.   
Castiel put on the nightgown marvelling at its lightness, the way it brushed her ankles, the frivolity of the frills around its sleeves, she got the urge to play with it and decided otherwise. The Angel slid cautiously in the bed next to the Throne. Humans were creatures of comfort she thought as she sprawled on the mattress and wrapped herself with the blanket. She spread her legs further as far as she could until reaching a scorching hot object. She immediately moved her burned toes away from this abominable device and put it down under the bed.   
  
-"Are we apt to sleep as humans do? » She enquired facing the angel beside her."  
-"Sometimes if we're severely injured. Tonight, we'll be waiting.  
Ban every thought from your mind, and you might be able to reach a sleep like state. Delight in the rest you offer to your vessel. »   
  
Castiel closed her eyes and all appeared so vivid. Ishim's calm breathing, the lively conversation coming from the kitchen downstairs, the cheerful clatter of the utensils, the owl hooting from miles away. She heard Benjamin praying for her pleasant thoughts of comfort and joy. Uneasy with words the soldier dutifully sent her gratitude as well as her sincere devotion regarding her sister in arms.   
She could not perceive the demon. Patience and temperance. Time will come.   
  


* * *

  
  
Seven in the morning. The night would not let dawn arises.   
  
They were all sat a the same table waiting for breakfast except for Benjamin, isolated at a table near the kitchen. She was eating from a ceramic bowl as large as her head. Castiel never suffered from hunger but she was certain the innkeeper would not tolerate anyone to starve.   
The other clients, a dozen, maybe less were indulging in idle chatter. Castiel caught conversations from every corner; the Wiscasset Jail is being equipped with the first electric chair in Maine, marvelled a man. A relative is getting married shared another. Prattles regarding life and death and everything in between. 

At their table however, one could hear a fly, and they did. Lauviah chased the insect away with a wave of her hand, she almost hit Mebahel who instinctively dodged and looked askance at the blond Seraph. He finally continued tapping his fingers in a perfect rhythm: tap, tap, tap, three times then one a few second later, and he resumed. Tap tap tap... tap... tap tap tap. Mirabel by the corner was slightly set back, she had crossed her arms. Just like the others she was waiting for Ishim instructions.   
The latter however stayed silent, concentrated, not meting the angels stares but focusing on the wood knots.   
  
-"I believe we should..."  
-"Castiel," interrupted the Throne. Mirabel, who had leaned over in order to speak, immediately fell silent and sank back into the chair.  
"Anything about the demon?"   
-"No, not a sign," The Angel informed.   
  
From his place, at the end of the table, the Sergeant could preside over them all. He imposed silence and discipline. He unfolded the white napkin on his right and set it down over his lap. He proceeded to flatten it with the back of his hand.   
The Throne waited until breakfast was served. The innkeeper greeted them enthusiastically and dished five large bowls in front of the Section of angels.   
  
-"Eat. I'll communicate my instructions later. If you feel incapable to wait that long here is the first one: don't draw attention."

  
Ishim stared at Mirabel who withdrew even more into silence. The Throne's words were nothing more than a whisper yet in tone sounded unequivocal: My orders are irrevocable, he seemed to say. He stared at them, hawk-like for a few minutes paying close attention to any sign of disapproval.   
Eventually, he grabbed his cutlery and took a mouthful. They followed.   
  
Castiel took an extensive look at the food, a long puzzled look. She has never eaten and this act as simple as it seemed raised many questions, she couldn't bring herself to ask: How to eat? How the vessel will receive it? How to eliminate it?   
A spoon in one hand the Angel plunged it right in the white creamy slop, she stirred it for a while, the steam diffused a very hearty smell, almost animal.   
Noises were coming from mastication and gulp. She observed her siblings eat, the way they carefully carried the spoon to their mouth, chewed and so on.   
  
-"Benjamin, Castiel silently prayed, how does the food taste?"  
  
The Angel was back in her room, yet she responded,  
  
-"Indefinable Castiel, lactic, soft. Ease your apprehension," she encouraged.  
  
Soft, she repeated for herself. Soft as an animal fur, as the locks caressing the nape of her neck. She finally took a generous amount of porridge in her mouth. Soft, no! She would not qualify this concoction soft; indefinable was the most fitting word.   
  
-"How does it fell?"  
-"I'm tasting every particle, the molecules."  
-"Is it disagreeable?" Benjamin inquired, curious.   
-"No, merely unpleasant." She concluded.  
  
She forced herself to swallow two generous spoonfuls and finished the bowl with another two mouthfuls. Once finished she hastily moved the empty bowl away from her. Ishim appeared amused by the Angel's behaviour. Teeth visible, mouth extending to the point it created wrinkles around the eyes, a sparkle of mischief filling his whole face. This expression lasted only a few seconds and yet pleased Castiel. Such a positive and kind demeanour. 

They consumed their meal quite quickly, some half-eaten brioches left breadcrumbs over the table. Castiel would not touch the pastry, the acrid scent of yeast was overwhelming and given her siblings' experience, dominated the taste. They waited until everything was cleaned and no human would interrupt.   
  
Lauviah, who's been quiet asked permission to speak.   
  
-"Why is the demon important for our mission?"   
  
Castiel found herself disconcerted by this question. From the deepest pit of Hell, demons could feel the birth of a Nephilim. What an opportunity to relive the glorious days of those destructive giants, degenerate sons and daughters born from an angel's sin. Ishim located the Nephilim in this area before losing every evidence of its presence, he informed Paradise and a military unit has been sent on earth. This specific part of the United States has been free from demonic intrusion until then so this lead revealed itself primordial. They had to interrogate the demon.   
  
-"I'm terribly surprised, sister, have you forgotten the massacres?  
Death demons and Nephilims spread and how many of us perished? Are Seraphs indifferent to Earth matters?  
However, some of yours appeared excessively fond of its animals, enough to fornicate and breed with them." Ishim retorted with a measured, calculated tone. He was as dismayed as Castiel. 

The blond Seraph lowered her aflame face as if Ishim pronounced anathema upon her offensive behaviour, she folded her wings as a sign of submission. Praying for forgiveness, she pronounced barely audible excuses.   
  
-"I do remember, I acknowledge why we have to explore every lead."   
-"Very well." Ishim reseated in a more relaxed position, back resting against the top of the chair and legs slightly pulled apart.  
-"I heard from the hotelier this morning about a harvest celebration being held at the Saint Mary of assumption church."  
-"Heathens!" Mebahel growled between his bared teeth.   
-"Old habits die hard Mebahel. Humans consider these celebrations comforting, they retrace time passing by. Time is all they've got after all."   
  
Ephemeral creatures, Castiel thought.   
  
-"This is a unique opportunity to inquire to the inhabitants. You shall investigate with discretion regarding newcomers or suspect behaviour they witnessed.   
Akobel may hide from Heaven, him and his female primate as well as their filthy spawn but people see and talk.  
You would be surprised how advertent humans are; especially when minding others business.  
Akobel is certainly not aware of that; he would be unwary around them."   
  
During their conversation many clients left leaving behind dirty plates and sounds of chairs creaking as they were dragged on the floor. Chatters faded as some reached the exit or regained their rooms and soon only cracks from the fireplace and their own breathing enlivened the place.   
  
-"Get prepared for the festivities. It's about being elegant. Humans like getting dress up for these events."   
  
At that, Ishim raised his slender silhouette and invited the angels to do likewise. Each of them regained their respective bedrooms.   
  
  
One hour passed but Castiel had lost track on time. The sun shyly pierced through thick clouds, yellowed leaves danced with a little help from the wind, their old partner. At the window Castiel serenely gazed the Ô so silent life. The soldier felt peaceful. If she was being sincere, maybe even proud to have as a Father, the almighty creator of such magnificence. A pride even greater as she was a part of it, expected to fiercely preserve and embellish this world. In fact, she experienced a similar occurrence earlier when Ishim's reassuring hands rested on her hips. When her Sergeant whispered a promise still ringing in her mind.   
And then, the Throne reflected on the window pane. She encountered his penetrating gaze. He noted her sudden change in behaviour.   
  
-"I believe it is not your first time on Earth Castiel." He mentioned with perhaps a mocking tone.   
-"I've never seen the Earth through eyes before." She could not elaborate, everything appeared so dim yet.   
  
She eventually turned towards the Throne.   


-"I was watching you, Castiel, I've been watching you for a long time, wandering away from the other angels. Where no angels should wander."

Nothing more than a twitch, barely perceptible, two blue orbs that open wide, heart pounding furiously, restlessly inside her chest. Fear, ineluctable fear. 

-"You're probably wondering how I could fathom this little secret of yours, after all I'm not supposed to cross this part of the library either."

Impossible thought Castiel, another angel in the same room, she would have known, she would have detected his presence before he could even sense hers. She dreaded to display her train of thought to Ishim. Panic made it impossible to keep a straight face and her superior appeared to read her like an open book. 

-"I know a few ways to go unnoticed whenever I desire to. Even to angels with keen senses such as yourself. Dare I even say that I'm able to hide from God himself."  
He briefly laughed, paused and as his sister's big eyes still stared at him, he resumed. 

-"Still, I couldn't help but notice, although our thirst for knowledge is insatiable our readings differ from one another: Demons.   
Demonology, Goetia, Hell, possession cases, damned souls, demon tablets, The Qliphoth ...  
A proper bookworm if you don't mind my saying so. I reckon you're even more literate in demon matters than Archangels themselves  
and they explored this subject for centuries. Not as avidly, your thirst for knowledge is akin to mine when studying our own species.  
-Have you ever heard of High Enochian Magic?"  
  
He stressed on the word High.

The latter shook her head. She stayed on guard, attentive yet too invested to worry about the consequences of her confidence. 

-"This form of magic, well it's nothing like we know of; powerful, require high-precision, dexterity and abnegation.  
It's a closely guarded secret, well hidden within higher circles. We aren't supposed to be aware of its existence let alone practicing it.  
-How did you get to this part? Only Archangels acknowledged its existence."   
  
-"The fire."Castiel wanted to keep quiet, should keep quiet.  
-"After the burning at Alexandria, every book we brought back had that peculiar smell.This odour filled not only our library but another part,  
a hidden and impenetrable room."

She paused, an angel committing such odious crime should fear for the outcome of its confession, Ishim was her superior after all. He had authority upon her.   
  
-"I spent a few centuries seeking a way to gain access to this part. I only needed to know..."   
  
This time no word would come out, stuck deep inside her sore throat. Castiel, too ashamed to speak out, fell silent. 

Ishim came closer, he supported her chin so she could not avoid his implacable stare. He knew, he knew for the Throne has done the same. For the unique way to cross the door was to reach the mightiness of an Archangel. In order to attain such power, they had to consume the deceased souls.   
  
-"How did you feel Castiel, when this door could no longer hold you back?  
How did you feel when powerful as you were nor Gabriel or even Michael could have resisted you?"   
  
Castiel heart was throbbing, palpitated so hard that she needed to gasp for air and resisted from doing so. Ishim and the Angel stood so close they shared the same breath. His dilated pupils mesmerised her.   
  
-"It was right", she confessed in a barely audible voice.

This time she forced herself to hold his gaze. She cherished his prolonged awed stare as for the first time the ordinary celestial soldier could recognise herself in a brother's eyes.   
Ishim confidently removed his hand from her chin. He began caressing his sister's delicate face, her cheekbones, her slender neck before lightly brush her vessel's plump lips with the tip of his thumb.   
  
-"Castiel, Castiel," like a prayer. "Castiel, I swear to protect this secret. May my grace be damned if I fail."  
-"And I promise to keep yours with my life and with my grace."   
  


  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The Service was about to begin. 

Castiel observed women queueing to put fruits and vegetables near the altar, creating a colourful palette of orange and yellow that the variety of flowers arranged around the church enhanced even more. 

Vespers commenced once every believer was sat. Children, especially the youngest, wriggled on their mother's laps. They wanted to eat apples and pumpkin pies they saw steaming outside, still hot from the oven. A few kisses and comforting whispers were enough to calm the impatient ones. 

Arms raised up to the sky, palms open, the pastor delivered words of hope and gratitude. He encouraged the faithful to do the same.   
Soon harmonious chants resonated plunging the church into a solemn atmosphere. 

Castiel closed her eyes and prayed to Benjamin still waiting outside. She conveyed to her, as accurately as she could, the beauty of the voices, the flowers' perfume and the appeasement of her heart. In exchange Benjamin shared the petrichor coming from the damp soil and the evening coolness which contrasted greatly with the warmth inside. 

Half melted candles flickered and leaved melted wax on the floor. 

By the time Castiel came round, chants were replaced by silent prayers. She cared to follow the example of her sisters and brothers by observing this time of silence. 

The Service ended, at long last, and children busted with joy, they walked hastily toward the door, kept wide open for them. A tide of screams and laughter assaulted the huge table overflowing with scrumptious dishes. Pumpkin pies, meat pies, breads, puddings, juicy fruits. None knew where to start. 

Conversations were flowing. Women dressed with modest yet elegant laced garments animated their chatter with grand gestures of gloved hands. 

In anticipation for the evening ball an orchestra was testing their instruments, Mebahel got away as soon as he heard the horn playing, he grabbed Lauviah's hand and joined Mirabel, Ishim and Castiel. 

Ishim would not stay still, he got away only to come back with his hands full of glasses containing a yellow beverage. He offered one to each of them and got another to Benjamin who eventually joined. 

The Throne raised his glass, waited for everyone to imitate and held the wine to his lips. 

Drinking might prove less unsettling than eating so Castiel grabbed her drink with subdued enthusiasm. She swallowed one sip that burned her tongue and throat. By reflex she attempted to heal her vessel only to notice that it was perfectly intact. 

The Angel agreed to another glass, she liked the sensation. 

Thrilled by her experimentations she soon noticed with shame she had lost the purpose of their mission. She stared at her Sergent, despite his nonchalant attitude he stayed alert and focused. He gestured for Castiel to come nearer and the soldier took hold of the throne's arm the way she remembered from earlier. 

-” We should enquire”, he casually said. 

Castiel neatened up her patter hat over her hair she wore twisted in a high bun. Her pearl grey dress came out almost black as the dark was taking over. The soldier tried to loosen up her collar by pulling on it and adjusting an ancient golden brooch. It was the sole piece of jewellery she was wearing. 

She was supposed to stay low and discreet, to introduce herself or answer a direct question, not more, not less. The problem lied in the fact she still had to interact with humans. 

Ishim easily weaved through the crowd, he knew every custom a gentleman is expected to demonstrate, he almost systematically took charge of the presentations introducing Castiel as his wife. 

“Pleased to meet you, nice to meet you, good to meet you”. Castiel soon grew tired of all the excitement. They had to face the obvious, enquire further would be fruitless. Not one newcomer, only three old women sitting on a bench have been babbling incoherent rumours about the birth of a « very peculiar child » with a very rare case of parasitic twin, nothing regarding a Nephilim whatsoever. 

A widower, that both elocution and body failed indicated he had lost his daughter due to birth complications, this information, as promising as it sounded, proved invalid when they were informed of the infant's death. 

Nothing, none of them had any conclusive result and now the orchestra was playing. The oldest stayed on their bench, the children started to run around the circle couples formed. They danced at the rhythm of chords and notes. None were willing to discuss serious matters at the moment. 

Mirabel, reluctantly and under Ishim's order, had accepted an invitation from a young man who was careful not to touch her inappropriately while dancing. 

Ishim slid his hand around Castiel's waist and invited her to join the dense gathering. She only needed to let herself be guided, he whispered to her. So, the Angel closed her eyes and tried to forget the surrounding, the glares these humans might gave them while seeing how gauche she acted, how awkwardly she moved and how inept she sure appeared to the Throne. 

Yet as the pace went slower the Sergent's embrace grew more and more possessive, the atmosphere gave off a certain quietude. 

Castiel suddenly had the urge to taste the yellow liquor anew. It occurred to her that this feeling of torpor might tasted like alcohol. She raised her eyes toward Ishim but kept her request quiet. 

Sulphur. The demon was near. 

..........

  
Her calves and arms were bleeding from the brambles. Branches whipped her face; those details could not hold her back. The demon's track had brought her in a dense forest. 

She was hearing her Sergent's voice demanding to report the situation, she ignored it. A moment of distraction and she risked losing its trail. She slowed down; the scent was strong here. She finally stopped; the demon was hiding under cover of darkness. 

\- “Show yourself demon!” 

At that two red orbs glimmered in the dimness around. 

\- “Name's Crowley, crossroad demon. _Enchanté_.” 

Similar to a bird of prey she swooped on the dark being, violently seized his jacket and unceremoniously pinned him against a tree. The creature bent due to the blunt force, dazed and breathless it had no other choice but to react when Castiel, armed with her angelic blade, carved with precision and dexterity into his skin, directly through the clothes. 

The hand holding the demon quickly got covered with thick crimson blood. Panting she took a few steps back. Free, the demon could no longer stay on both legs and brutally hit the ground. 

\- “Get up demon”, ordered the angel with authority. Her spread wings and glowing icy blue eyes displayed her power. She dominated the demon with her whole height. The latter struggled to get back on two feet, he spat a red liquid before dissolving into a coughing fit and collapsing again. 

Out of patience the Angel grabbed the demon's vessel to put him on its feet. 

\- “Tearing my clothes off at first sight, not that I really mind”. Despite his laborious breathing and with the help of the tree trunk he managed to finally stand up.   
On unsteady legs, he looked down at the celestial being. He showed his teeth, almost animal, a predatory smile. 

The inside of his mouth covered in blood seemed to merge with incarnadine fumes escaping from it. The smoke caressed his face, from his full lips to his high and prominent cheekbones and finally got lost inside his jet-black locks. 

-” What are you doing here?” 

She effortlessly controlled the demon. The cold palm of her hand right on his forehead, a threat, promise of a definitive death. 

Yet still his smile grew larger, almost mocking the angel. 

\- “Your kind cruelly lacks hospitability”. 

\- “What do you know about my kind? Do you know what I am?” 

\- “Mmh”.   
He paused, in all likelihood for effect and folded his arms letting them rest over his injured chest. An imperceptible quiver betrayed the sharp pain he experienced. 

-” A hostile yet very discreet race”, he resumed. “So quiet that one might think you're nothing but legends, some old wives' tale I dare say, A load of codswallop, a cock and bull story, a ... “, he had to cut his monologue short due to the angel's palm pressing harder, “Anyway, I'm somewhat of an incorrigible believer, and my faith has been rewarded for I'm blessed with two angels”. 

Two angels. So, the demon had meet Akobel before and made it out alive. Was it conceivable that Akobel fell to the point he colluded with one of these abominations? 

Her hand stayed still when, from the other she pressed the blade against the hellish creature's thin neck. 

\- “Speak demon. Where can I find this other angel?” 

The blade's cold contact bothered him in absolutely no way, after all he possessed crucial information although some of the whys and wherefores still escaped his comprehension, never mind that, cross his heart and hope to still live tomorrow he would make the most of it! 

Nonchalantly he took some time to observe the angel's vessel. Unremarkable woman really, barely distinguishable; average built, a face, he admitted, pleasantly chiselled would reveal quite ordinary if not enhanced by raven hair and myosotis eyes. 

Last but not least he could say the worst part of this miserable portrait was indubitably the way she adorned herself with those most beautiful finery: a dress made from sturdy fabrics, conceived to be patched as far as possible, no perfume nor make up, a hat desperately hanging on dishevelled hair. 

A painful spectacle indeed. This woman adopted enough codes to fit in yet never transcend.   
Presumably lower middle class, immigrant most likely. Married, too unblemished hands to be working on the field. She appeared pious and devoted. 'The angel in the house', of course he would not dare to think ironically of it. No way sir. 

\- “Why not spare ourselves the usual hostilities? If this detail has not escaped your unswerving attention, I intentionally walked into the lion's den “. 

Ô Lord, now the angel inclined her head, bird brain. They were not out of the wood yet. Quite literally. 

-” I brought you here and let you capture me. Doesn't this peculiar behaviour strike you as foolish? And believe me I'm no fool. So, what is it then? A trap? Mmh” 

He looked around as best as he could, eyes widely opened in a ridiculous way. Hanging like a puppet to a string wishing to deceive the puppeteer. 

-” Seems like I'm the one on the losing end”, he resumed. “You hold all the cards. So what will you choose kitten? Heaven is missing an angel and I know exactly where to find him. Two birds, one stone, what do you say?” 

The incandescent glowing eyes devouring His person was very much appreciated unlike the threatening blade still cold against his throat, a very sharp blade by the look of it. He had regained a bit of strength and took this opportunity to teleport as far as possible from the murderous glaze only to realise he could not move an inch. 

Through a brief moment of clarity, he realised his calculated risk spiralled out of his control. Now he was entirely at the celestial being's mercy and unfortunate detail, his eloquence did nothing to the latter. 

Back against the wall, he now had only one last card to play. Desperate measure, for desperate time indeed, although only the result mattered and the strategy might turn out to play right. He might also benefit from not being reduced to ashes by some furious spadger. 

\- “I know a house, up the hill. I can't pass through since it's warded with some esoteric protection, quite powerful, I know nothing of the sort. It renders the house undetectable for those unaware of its location. You need someone to show you the way, in other words you need my precious help”. 

At last! Doubt had sown into the angel's mind. Her face remained impassive and without an observant look he could have missed the veil of confusion blurring her eyes. 

Crowley wondered if such alliance had occurred in some ancient times, an angel and a demon dancing together. Their encounter was a milestone for certain! 

Yet such candid emotions would not affect the pretty brunette, she displayed an expression of hopeless agony. Really! He didn't have the luxury to attend the debutante ball. Hurry up, call the angel in charge! He might not be as good looking but maybe he could made up for lost time and react with more alacrity. 

\- “Lead the way to this house. Now!” 

Every word she pronounced sounded like commands. What a shrew! 

-” Nothing would please me more, exquisite creature, yet I must, with great regret, remind you that not content with destroying a priceless costume, you marked my skin to keep me enchained”. 

A smile? more like the hint of a smile. Not a good omen for the demon in any way.   
  
-” It does much more than enchain you. As long as the mark remains you will stay deprived of all your abilities, unable to separate the essence from the flesh, unable to make deals. You are at my mercy”. 

Very well, very well. Crowley was confident enough to handle those minor restraints. 

\- “Then take us there. I'll guide you”, he mumbled between his teeth. 

\- “Do I need to repeat myself? perhaps I haven't made myself clear, should I point out the obvious?” 

At these words the demon clearly lost his debonair manners: 'unable to separate the essence from the flesh', the bloody angel wanted him to walk like a vulgar human.   
  
-” It's a four-hours walk!” He vociferated; she finally drove him into a corner.   
  
\- « No time to lose then. I'm ahead of you ».   
  
Unceremoniously she pushed him forward and forced him to walk.   
His cuts had coagulated into hard, ugly scabs. His ragged, stained and muddy clothes annoyed him. His sensible shoes were absolutely not designed for a walk in the countryside.   
Despite all that he considered himself almost distinguished next to the dishevelled angel wandering around like a scarecrow, untidy, draggletailed. Her skirt torn, her bun leaning dangerously to the side. her uncovered head no longer sheltered a hat. On top of that her face was covered with fine unhealed cuts.   
He hoped that no one would see them coming out of the forest looking this way 

..........

\- “This is ridiculous, I deserve respect! Remove this bloody mark"." What is this sign anyway? I've never saw such symbol before”. 

Crowley would not take his eyes off the ground fearing to stumble on the uneven floor. His once shiny shoes were getting dirtier and dirtier as they moved forward. His angelic fellow-sufferer had remained enclosed in total silence for nearly an hour.   
His left eyelid was twitching as it had a life of its own and refused to calm down, he had tightened his jaw so hard and so long it was beginning to hurt.   
Bollocks! She even walked barefoot now! Having set aside her pair which broke earlier due to her unfortunate yet not so surprising clumsiness. She still was muddy and dishevelled and for unknown reasons, she decided not to heal her wounds.   


\- “Quiet demon “. 

\- “She speaks!” Crowley needed to talk, to make this journey enjoyable for the both of them and obtain some precious information doing so. 

\- “Name's Crowley as I told you earlier”. “This sign on my skin, it's unlike anything I've ever seen, nor in hell or in witchcraft work. Where did you learn such mysterious magic? In angels ' school? From a private tutor maybe? I bet you learnt so many new tricks! Did he teach you the one where you have to get naked? “ 

-” No magical procedure requires nudity”. 

Again, his eye twitched. 

-"Few angels know about it", she clarified while keeping on walking with that cold and distant attitude she always carried like an armour. "It is a very ancient form of magic. A common demon has no such knowledge. He doesn't possess such ambition".   
  
Crowley noticed she had haughtily raised an eyebrow at the mention of a "common demon". Charming.   
However, Crowley dared call himself demon extraordinaire for his business acumen and capacity to read one's mind, reveal what was hidden. He could have sworn there was smotheming more beneath that marble face and alleged disdain.   
  
-” Few angels, you say?” He had no choice but to stare at his feet after almost slipping again. “Few **common** angels you mean. So, have I been given the signal honour to converse with the pick of the litter?”   
  
She remained impassive. - “I am a soldier of God; my knowledge does not make me superior to my kind. however, I am more than willing to put an end to your insignificant existence with a single gesture, demon “, “Move on “.   
  
Again, she pushed him forward with her fingertips and Crowley swore, angel or not, to make this ersatz Gibson girl bite the dust. Nevertheless, he decided not to try his luck with the hostile creature and stay silent for a moment.   
The path they were on was becoming more and more hazardous as wet leaves recovered the ground and created a very slippery surface. Due to the damp air his clothes stuck to his skin. He felt so gungy, sticky and ill-at-ease that he could not help but bless the simple fact he still was able to see clear in the dark. To further his torture, he tried to remember the way he endured such harsh conditions every single day of his humanity. He mechanically slid his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket but found nothing more than a gaping hole. 

-” My Craig!” The demon ran his hands through every nook and cranny of his clothes, he flipped around looking at the horizon without being able to focus on a specific point. 

-” We have to go back right now!”. 

  
Castiel calmly observed the demonic creature turn around and walk in the opposite direction. To her surprise, he took quite a rapid pace in contrast to the rhythm he had been imposing since the beginning. 

She raised her right hand without haste, a red aura was coming out of her fingers. She tightened her fist. 

Crowley's lacerated chest burned with a deep, throbbing pain. Writhing in agony he curled unto himself, similar to a foetus, he was soon unable to move. His face twisted into a frightening mask of red and black fumes and rotting flesh. His rib cage could no longer contain him, he feared it would break from pressure. He felt his cursed essence squirming, trying to escape from his human meatsuit by any means possible. It was twisting, screaming, trying to tear the structure of his vessel with its etheric claws. 

The vessel’s face blackened and its eyes bulged out. Abandoning any Will other than not to beg or cry, he repeated to himself over and over again that this pain, this intolerable torture was similar to the one that condemned his soul to a demonic existence. 

His agony finally ceased. Crowley observed the angel lower her hand, not out of compassion or because she considered the lesson learnt. He recognised that look, dilated pupils, wide opened eyes, a gaze that could pass as surprise if not shadowed. Her bosom raised and fell too fast, the demon could not be mistaken, she had taken pleasure in it. Too much, perhaps, seeing how she obviously struggled to regain her calm. Anyway, her quivering voice ordered Crowley to resume walking. 

He got up painfully, shaking from rage. His meatsuit was fine, yet the pain remained deep into his essence. Furious, he clenched his fist so hard the phalanges whitened. He took a resolute step and continued the walk. His eyes glowed red, he knew that yet couldn't find the will to hide his nature. 

For a moment, he entertained the idea to break her, to crush her, corrupt her grace and drag the angel into the depths of Hell. He would subject her to the worst abuse. Ha! He would tear her wings off to see if this bird of ill omen could fly without them. He would leave only shreds of flesh, barely retaining a few scattered feathers, He would precipitate the creature at his feet, her big blue eyes raised towards him, imploring his clemency.   
Suddenly he stopped his train of thought, interrupted by a sharp throw into the heart. It was beating too hard, pounding restlessly into his chest. A painful pinch he vainly tryied to soothe with short breathing. A panic that crushed him once he realised that the angel used a very ancient but familiar form of magic, sourcing from Hell. The same dark force that brought him to life centuries ago. Demonic magic. 

A soldier of God, she described herself. 

The demon's knowledge was limited to some Bibles, two or three obscure writings that occasionally mentioned biblical facts or the angelic hierarchy. Gathering those information Crowley concluded she was part of the Celestial Army, nothing more than cannon fodder all in all. Of course, he did not know much about their strength or their capacities, he only realised that a simple demon was small fry in comparison. Only the first generation of demons, the "purest" one, originated, without much certainty, directly from the fallen angels, faithful to Lucifer, only those demons could equal a soldier of God. She certainly possessed some incommensurable power toward his kind. Yes, yet an angel endowed with such dark power, unthinkable.   
A few angels, she informed earlier. Angels, certainly not. Princes of Hell on the other hand, Crowley could swear she was familiar with their obscure form of magic and practiced for her own benefit. 

Why? He had underestimated her, without any doubt. A mistake he would not reiterate.   
Crowley cursed his weakness; he abhorred the feeling of terror the angel brought back into him. At the slightest crack louder than the other the demon’s heart missed a beat. 

-” Demon”, she called out to him. He remained silent, careful not to contradict her. 

-” Where are we? Are you wasting my time again?” 

He bit his tongue not to repeat that walking was the worst way to get from point A to point B. He just stated they were halfway there; another two hours' walk or so. 

-” Alright, move on”. The bossy celestial being ordered. 

Crowley followed in the angel’s heels, since she preceded the march every expression or gestures were concealed to him. He no longer dared to turn around or interrupt their progression in any way. However, with attention and disregarding the noises caused by their footsteps (fear of another attack increased tenfold his senses), he managed to occasionally caught faint whispers in Latin _"abscondo furto fugam" "A facie tua abscondar"._ She was trying to stop something, to prevent something.   
_"I refuse obedience"_ , _"I am escaping your gaze"_. Who or what was she hiding from? 

The shadow around the celestial being deepened as she went along. Crowley became more and more aware that he might not get out of it alive. How his usual gibberish and pirouettes could save him this time? 

Trying to surreptitiously change the symbol with a knife proved to be both unnecessary and very painful. The blade she had used on him was forged from a special alloy designed by angels. Spells he learnt from his mother were not much successful. This bloody whore will never be of any use. 

Bollocks! He could tame a hellhound but not a heaven’s bitch.   
To crown it all the latter saw Crowley as a particularly repulsive cockroach so, despite her blatant lack of humility, flattery would not work. Never mind intimidation. 

Think, damn it think! What did he know? No sense of decorum. First time on earth? Probably. A shameful attraction for violence. She is hiding, "I refuse obedience" from a superior? From Heaven? She is a soldier, to obey is undoubtedly a priesthood. So, she circumvents the rules moreover she uses a very dark kind of magic. A fallen angel? No, no, not likely. 

To keep on this deduction game was fruitless. He lacked leverages for the situation to play in his favour. He didn’t even know her name. 

And why would an angel be interested in demonic magic? After all the real war involved angels themselves. Fallen angels made demons numerous to use as tools for Hell, nothing more. In their numbers would lies the real threat if most of them were walking the earth and not kept warm and cosy, as helpless as puppies in Hell. Few of his kind wandered out of the underworld nowadays, the perks of crossroad demons. 

Risking a discreet glance, Crowley had just enough time to catch a glimpse of the bluish aura the angel emitted. He repressed a shiver. 

What if she liked to play with fire? Was she driven by a hedonistic nature? Really unsettling. He, who only survived on instinct or pleasure (both were mostly incompatible), never thought of that beforehand. 

-” Do you know what Hell looks like?” What the Hell, after all! God how he missed his Craig. 

He believed he had her attention. Well, he carried on.   
  
-” When one refers to the depths of Hell it's only an idea, a metaphor. This place is abysmal and infinite. Impalpable, the ground on which we walk is vanishing beneath our feet, the horizon we perceive in the distance never comes close. Whoever seeks rest there is forever falling, whoever seeks peace is tormented by thousands of voices around him”. ” We overhear the initial souls; the undamned souls, screaming "mummy, mummy". Uncanny, isn't it? Even those born from sluts like I, they hope for the comfort of loving arms in a place where love is forever absent.   
Initial souls go through years of physical torture before being left alone. In total isolation. They end up begging for the torture to return; at least it is a sensation, it is a touch. It is something. And you can scream, you can beg, you get drunk on hope. I remember when I walked the earth again, reborn as a demon. Nothing compares this memory in my mortal life.” 

He smiled and this gesture blurred his vision. To ease his heavy eyelids, he took a breath of fresh air hoping to clear his intrusive thoughts. 

There is nothing more beautiful than this earth, nothing more grandiose than the soil we tread on, the wine we drink, the burning of the sun or the sex we do. Here, choices are to be made and opportunities to be seized, earth is ruled by limit and logic. In hell only chaos and its agents are running around like headless chickens asking for dear daddy unaware he would crush them one by one if he ever returns. 

\- “Daddy? Is that the way you qualify him? Do your kind harbour any fondness for Lucifer?” 

So, Crowley was right about the nosy angel. She desired to hear more, she yearned to have a look at the other side. 

\- “We are all creation of God, Lucifer merely broke some human souls and glued the fragments together”, he was instantly interrupted. 

-” You are an abomination as devious as his spirit and as vile as his essence. Not in any circumstances was my Father the instigator of your decadence and filth”. 

If Crowley feared a new outburst of rage, it was nothing of the sort. The heavenly being only stated the facts calmly. She spoke in a tone that was devoid of any irony or hatred. The demon knew she meant everything she said. 

\- “Yes, filthy and vile, and yet utterly fascinating". He stepped up and soon reached the angel who stared at him. He rearranged his hair with one hand, adjusted his vest and opened his torn jacket. He rubbed his fingertips mechanically over the severed skin. 

Crowley caught her gaze on this very spot. He had her precisely where he wanted. 

-” Hell abounds with so many secrets, so many subjects on which to experiment. Here I am, the first demon you ever saw and I appear more human than expected; you, the first angel and you reveal less virtuous than written.” 

She betrayed no emotion, she only continued to strode through the forest with an inhuman ease. 

-” What do you know about virtue demon?” 

-” That an angel’s virtue is nothing more than feigned righteousness and certainly not an intrinsic nature. Don't get me wrong, I respect your thirst for knowledge but this symbol on my chest, this magic you used earlier on me flows from hell. It is the very substance that made me and what fascinates you so. Would you like to see what only Lucifer has seen? Would you like to triumph over Hell and stand out amongst your own? Do you need anything? I could be useful. Ask, I'll answer.” 

Ishim's words echoed in Castiel's thoughts, " I see you take a significant part in Heaven's affairs once this mission ends Castiel." 

-” What are you up to? Are you implying we should seal a pact? I can only wonder what a lowly creature like you could provide to me”. A sudden gust of wind tousled her already dishevelled hair, obstructing her vision. 

Crowley delighted in seeing the slender hands trying to put the locks of hair back. He was puzzled by this need, he who no longer had anything human, he who inhabited a body that belonged to another, but human-like attitude remained long after their death. This was indeed what deceived the ones they dealt with. How, with such familiar appearance, could any of them turn out to be harmful? 

-” You misjudge my ambitions and my abilities," she corrected. “I am a servant of the Lord; I am forever devoted even if I were to die for this cause.” She paused and moistened her lower lip. Oh, this uncanny human impulse had only lasted a fraction of second, but Crowley had been paying close attention. 

-” And I will preserve my integrity”. Her chin rose and her eyes focused on the horizon. 

Of course, disloyalty was absolutely out of the question, yet. As for integrity, Crowley made no mistake about this magic. It looked far too familiar to him. The dear angel cherished a long-forgotten ideal. her intentions however, remained vague to him, still, he could pinpoint a few leads and he was not against steering the angel to the right direction. 

-” A mere offer. Perhaps it might be wise to ally yourself with the other side. It could unlock certain doors”. The demon made his voice fluctuate on the last word. This creature needed a little help to take the bait. 

-” No angel can infiltrate Hell, only Lucifer and his disciples hold the secret”. 

Ah, she bites! And what a precious catch. 

And secrets are meant to be discovered. We both know it is possible. 

Really Crowley hardly anticipated the situation to turn in his favour, he estimated the chances of getting out of it alive at about 30% now. he subtly expressed his gratitude to the moon shining above him. 

-” I ought to tear your heart out for uttering such foul thoughts”. 

Presumably this would not cause any harm, nothing lethal, but he usually avoided getting his hopes up and lowered his chances of survival to 25%. He was nothing if not cautious. Most of the time. 

-” In this case I will not say a dicky bird”. He pretended to seal his mouth with his finger. Enough speaking. Now it was a matter of letting the idea germinate. Any other word from him may prove detrimental to his well-being. 

Hell, served on a silver platter, more like a promise. Details, details, still Crowley has always been a hopeless romantic. 

..........

  


  


  



	3. Chapter 3

Calm had settled in her mind; Ishim must have realised by now she refused to follow his orders. She struggled physically and emotionally in order to disobey; her distress clasped tightly her chest as though in a vice. She dreaded her superior's response. Still, she placed her faith in the throne and trusted him to understand the importance of her facing a demon. She had to concede the latter showed no lack of intelligence. His unremitting talking may be irritating, but she also learnt a tremendous amount from him. No book ever depicted so much insight on a demon's mind; they used to possess the fragile and flawed intellect of the human's spirit long before turning into these tainted beasts. 

The ephemeral nature of life predisposed humans to good or evil, yet in His great mansuetude, her Father provided each individual with free will. Castiel perceived them as vulnerable, guidance would ease the burden of life. To lead their way so they suffered neither misfortune nor temptation. She pictured men and women their souls mutilated, imploring their mothers to come to their aid. Since they needed this protection, should not the Angels fulfil this role?   
  
She glanced at the fiend. She clearly distinguished his essence, the shrivelled, convoluted mask of ugliness. On impulse she felt the urge to grab his face and heal the devil's core. Yet the soul rotten and gangrened was an incurable condition.   
She caught him smiling. 

-"Are you fantasising about me, sweet angel?" 

Without batting an eyelid, she answered: -" I observe your essence. I wonder what kind of man you used to be to endure such suffering. What regrets haunt you and consume you as the crimson volutes that linger within you". 

His gaze darkened; he kicked a pebble that landed a little further away.  
-"A holy man, don't doubt for a second. Christ incarnated, I would also drink a lot of wine". 

-" Shall you always blaspheme this way? 

-"Demons' prerogatives, a considerable privilege and a guaranteed source of entertainment. I admit it is definitely better with an angel." 

How he constantly tried to misdirect Castiel greatly annoyed the celestial being. She considered reading his essence. The procedure excruciated the human mind and core, she doubted a demon could survive such touch. However, an insight into the demon's past may prove fruitful and enlight her understanding of the dark world. patience, she needed him a little longer. 

Naturally, his absurd suggestion still remained unanswered. To descend into Hell. Castiel dared not consider any such thing, what could be seen? What could be learnt? How powerful was demonic magic at its roots? 

How ridiculous; an angel of the Lord, in Hell. She nevertheless experienced the same thrill of exaltation she had felt so long ago at the sight of the hidden door, the secret she shared with Ishim. To renounce acquiring more knowledge would leave her with a sense of incompleteness, of ignorance; she deemed ignorance dangerous, intolerable. 

She suddenly noticed her train of thoughts. She decided to end it there and to rely on Ishim, wiser and well-educated. He would understand and advise her with wisdom. She was no longer alone. 

-"Here we are." 

Castiel stared at the demon and turned her head. Before them the endless sweep of the prairie extended until it reached the edge of an opulent undergrowth. 

-"You mentioned a house, demon." 

And a house there is, remember what I told you; it's undetectable. He grabbed Castiel's arm and she backed off instinctively. The angel's strength made it impossible for him to hold her in place. 

-I have to show you where to look, come closer. He beckoned her to approach. Seeing the angel’s reluctance, he rolled his eyes so violently he suddenly felt nauseous and added, 

-"I don't like it any more than you do, but you should be able to tolerate me for thirty seconds". "Come on, touch my arm, with all due respect". 

Castiel took a few steps in his direction and raised her right hand to put it on his shoulder. The fabric of his jacket moistened her fingers; it was as cold as ice. She wondered if the demon experienced any discomfort, there was no sign of it. 

-” Don’t enjoy it too much”, he mocked. He had the audacity to wink to illustrate his point   
-“Nothing in you is pleasant enough to deserve my interest”. Crowley had apparently little success. Not that it mattered, it was not a time for pleasantries. 

Crowley pointed a spot with his finger and Castiel tried to look in this direction. Nothing in the scenery changed. 

-"Now focus on this point"", he indicated. 

Castiel frowned, tiptoed to reach the demon's height, squinted, moved back a step. Has he tricked her? 

She gripped his shoulder tight and felt a tingling sensation in her extremities, then an electric pain ran through her arm. Little by little, like patches of colour on a blank canvas, a house appeared, modest, unremarkable with the exception of the protective field. The intricate symbols radiated a blue glow that pierced through the ground and the house's foundations. 

Even while they stood at safe distance, Castiel perceived a force holding her back. Castiel recognised enochian magic, no doubt about it. Neither angels nor demons could break into this field 

Crowley crouched on the ground. Castiel laid her arm down. 

-" Well, here we are", Crowley stated. " Perhaps, you would be so kind as to heal me now?". He made a circular gesture with his hand, pointing to his torso. His partner's unresponsiveness made him drop his arms. He resolutely folded them and waited. 

After some time, he raised his head to the angel. She was standing upright, silent and ramrod straight. Only the wind swayed her hair along with the tail of her muddy garment, where dried dirt was beginning to crumble. 

By all means, Castiel had to weaken the protection. Altering certain symbols caused no trouble and would adulterate the field, however not sufficiently. She was supposed to reach the very heart of its structure, to find the parent symbol, the one that gave the protection strength. 

She first identified symbols she was familiar with, about a hundred of them, she knew their demonic equivalent and could therefore corrupt them in the process. 

This would reduce the range and power of the field and leave about ten symbols, those closest to the house. Then it would be up to her to decipher all of them. She feared Akobel had invented them. In that case, the modification would prove tricky since full of the seraph's grace. it would have to lead her to the father symbol, from which all the others are derived. She feared Akobel had invented them. In this case, the modification would prove tricky since filled with Akobel's grace. By doing so, she should be able to find the parent symbol, from which all the others originated. Logical associations linked them to this one only in order for the web to interlace properly. 

Of course, neither she nor the demon were able to approach the house, not only the field prevented them from doing so, they would also be spotted within second if they moved a few meters closer. As a matter of fact, the solution was surprisingly simple. 

-"Get up", she ordered. Surprised, the demon remained still for a few seconds before standing on his own two legs, a plaintive moaning followed the effort. 

Castiel aligned the palm of her hand with the demon's torso, she gathered her grace on this precise point. The symbol began to heal. The demon clenched his teeth but stayed still. 

A little more and, now! Straightaway she pressed that same hand against the solar plexus, scarlet plumes of smoke streamed from her hand again. She felt the demon's essence shaping into a sphere as she tightened her fingers. Trapped in her grip, she lifted it up along the oesophagus. The demon was resisting, his mouth refused to open, though it was only a matter of time. He would soon surrender to her inexorable power and already his essence leaked out. Not fast enough to Castiel's taste. 

-"Exocizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus". Muffled cries arose from the demon's throat, the devil persisted in his resistance. "Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis advesarii". Tears now flowed down his face before he could hold them back, his panting became more and more laborious and his moans more and more tormented. "Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica ergo, draco maledicte", Castiel's voice was getting harsher, the scarlet volutes now surrounded the angel's entire form, Crowley, in his pain, could swear those forget-me-not eyes tinged with black. Trembling with his whole body, he felt himself abdicate. Though his mind yearned to carry on, to fight, to survive. For he was made of the relentless urge to survive no matter the cost. Yet, only a whisper, or was it the end of the exorcism? A gentle voice overpowered the others: _That is enough_. And his mouth opened. 

The vessel fell like a disjointed puppet. Trapped in Castiel's palm, the very substance of the demon, she could hear him shout, but ignored him. She knelt down beside the vessel, relieved from its burden. It was undamaged, the body healthy, and hopefully the mind was too. Febrile the man managed to get into a sitting position, he was gasping for air as if he had not been breathing for a long time. 

-” Do you know what I am?” she enquired in a clear voice. 

-” wi, ou se yon zanj”, A haitian. He was a long way from home, you are an angel, he repeated. 

-” The demon, is he dead?” His memory had been preserved. He looked around him, lost, as if he were imprisoned. He was sweating heavily and gasped for air, Castiel could hear his heart pounding, his eyes seemed unable to focus. She approached the man a little closer, although he didn't notice. How strange, she tilted her head in doubt. He was perfectly healthy, so why did his body shiver? Was he cold? Gently she laid a hand on his forehead, carefully sliding her grace along her fingers and soothing the young man's fear. The latter sighed and the tremors subsided. 

It occurred to Castiel that she reacted appropriately since the man closed his eyes and whispered, 

\- "Please kill him".   
\- "I will," Castiel promised. She helped him to stand up again, without the demon's presence he held himself slightly crooked, he wrapped his arms around himself, and his teeth chattered again. He barely managed to look up, pretending to escape from the reality he was facing, from the angel holding the demon captive in the palm of her hand, that bèl fanm who tortured him and finally delivered him. He ignored how much time had passed since his possession, but he could not think of anything else but to find his loved ones as soon as possible. 

-"Do you love your Creator?"  
-"I am a Catholic".   
-"You are not answering my question, are you devoted to him?"   
\- "Yes". To tell the truth, he frequented church to please his mother, and lately for the pretty Catalina he was courting. A sudden thought crossed his mind; perhaps the angel was testing him, she may find out that he was not a devout believer. That a demon had possessed him because he constituted a suitable receptacle for the devil. O Lord! He babbled some excuses, some prayers, he begged for mercy, he vowed to do better, to be good. Hands clasped together, he sought forgiveness from Heaven's emissary. 

\- "I would do anything to repent myself, I’m begging you," he implored. 

Castiel pulled a knife out of the jacket, she expected the demon to have one. The young man stepped back, she explained to him he would have to use his own blood to draw lines wherever she indicated. She made it clear that every instruction would resonate like a voice in his head and that under no circumstances was he allowed to disregard her orders or disagree in any way. 

She held the knife up for him to pick it up, noting his lack of reaction Castiel urged him to take the knife. He refused and retreated even further. Surely, he intended to serve his God's interests? Was he reneging on his promise? She, who delivered him from the malicious, was it an appropriate manner to show gratitude? 

Her anger unfurled through telepathy. The man curled up with his head in his hands, _"non souple, non",_ he beseeched. He dreaded more than anything else further torment, his mind was unable to endure any more abuse. 

The angel perceived distinct visions of blood and pain. "If you have faith in God, you will feel no pain", she transmitted. To illustrate her statement, she sliced through the flesh of her forearm, which bled abundantly. As a sign of faith, she exhorted the human being to do likewise. Under her protection he suffered neither pain nor death. She imagined mortals more inclined to obey before a celestial entity instead of relying on manipulation. 

Shaking like a leaf, he took the knife, approached the cold silver blade close to his arm with tremendous difficulty and sliced through it enough to spill a few drops of blood. Amazed, he did it again, this time deeper. The boy nodded his head and dried his eyes. Castiel believed she had finally gained his trust. 

  
..........

The weaker symbols ceded easily. Castiel was maintaining the demon while keeping the man safe. This required a certain degree of concentration. She was well aware that her resources of grace diminished considerably on earth. However, in her opinion, this exercise presented no challenge and she would still dispose of all her faculties afterwards. 

Well, the field weakened. The human moved vivaciously and had an excellent visual memory, much to Castiel's surprise. She didn't really need to point out the locations of the symbols for him to go there as soon as Castiel mentally projected them. 

The field was down to a dozen or so active symbols, so no need to corrupt each of them - all that mattered was the source. 

Unsure where to start, she randomly chose the one next to the man who stood there awaiting her instructions. 

As she dreaded, this symbol meant nothing to her, and was therefore Akobel's work. Its shape was unusual. Impossible for the enochian language to form such sign. A human language then? Strange, enochian would have guaranteed stronger protection. 

She wrote the letters she recognised in her head OCTSEQGDUMI . 

E, the letter E was frequently used. she formed the word _EST;_ this seemed the most obvious to her. so, a cardinal point or a verb. The prevalent form may be the verb "to be", therefore "is". From French or Latin. In her sequence of letters were the letters S.U.M, _sum_ . The non-conjugated form of _est_ . Of course, this was pure speculation on her part, but a Latin expression occurred to her: Cogito, ergo sum. Yes, the letters corresponded, but not all of them. The original statement was, _Quidquid_ _noscit_ _est_ _, ergo ego sum._ Anyone who knows exists, then I exist! Perfect, altering it would be child's play. No concrete demonic equivalent existed so she had to improvise. To counter the insolent claim, doubt was appropriate: _Errare_ _humanum_ _est_ _,_ _perseverare_ _diabolicum_. She shaped a symbol in her mind and passed it on. Seeing the young man at work, she carried on with her task. 

  
_Hello, ma_ _baby!_ _Hello, ma_ _honey_ _!_   
_Hello, ma ragtime_ _gal!_   
_Send_ _me a_ _kiss_ _by_ _wire_   
_Baby,_ _my_ _heart's_ _on_ _fire_   


Castiel interrupted her thoughts, how much time had passed, she had no idea, but she found the man, his gaze fixed on her, squatted close to the shape he had deformed earlier, and the demon considered it was a good time to sing a little song. 

  
_If you refuse me, honey, you'll lose me_   
_Then you'll be left alone, oh baby_   
_Telephone and tell me_ _I'se_ _your own_

She tightened her grip on him, muzzling him again, although she heard a faint protest from him calling her a "shrew". 

This reflective moment allowed her to interpret four more signs. The content appeared to be Akobel's own work: 

_Wind,_ _you_ _carry the_ _seeds_ _of_ _my_ _love,_

_Allows_ _them_ _to_ _grow_ _and_ _germinate_ _,_

_Allows_ _them_ _to_ _thrive_ _and_ _disseminate_ _,_

_Protection_ _against_ _the_ _deceitful_ _dove_ _._

_Through_ _my_ _labour,_

_Every_ _hour_ _,_

_Hide_ _what_ _is_ _ours_ _,_

_From_ _the_ _eyes_ _of_ _my_ _terrors_ _._

_At the_ _peak_ _of the_ _day_ _,_

_Shall_ _flower_ _again_ _in May,_

_My_ _love_ _that_ _will_ _blossom_ _,_

_And shelter you until autumn._

_From_ _the sin_

_That_ _rooted_ _in_ _your_ _bosom_

_Cruel to_ _your_ _kin_

_You_ _condemned_ _some_

_To_ _clarity_ _and_ _deliverance_ _,_

_If I must know,_

_Become the subsistence,_

_That appeases my sorrow._   


Each of these symbols derived from a human language. Had Akobel disavowed his kind to the point he no longer spoke their language? And their significance, Castiel failed to understand their meaning. Although he was convinced that it was celestial magic, the source of their power cannot belong to the grace of an angel. Perhaps she sensed Akobel's unredeemed grace, in which case using enochian language may prove useless. 

She set aside her reflections to return to the poems and associate them with the other symbols. They had many similarities that brought them together: Knowledge and Agriculture. 

Agriculture, that point raised her concern. She recited the poems aloud. She needed to find a correlation between the words. 

The first poem, the seed, the seed thus spread to ensure protection, nothing so mysterious and somewhat effective. The second poem, labour and its results. The third one still referred to sowing and protection, however, she hardly understood that concept. 

-"May I interrupt?" The demon suddenly decided to speak again. Castiel couldn't waste time with his demands and clenched her hand firmly.   
-"THE FRUIT!" She heard him shout. She suspended her movement to allow him to express himself.  
-"Speak", she agreed.   
-"You sound not very versed in idioms, so I'll be giving you a little hand, which in colloquial language translates as I'm going to help you. These poems are quite simple to gather with some popular sayings in mind. For instance, "You reap what you sow", the labour, "the fruit of the labour", love that blossoms, I think about children. Some say that children are the "fruits of the womb". As for the last one... " 

As for the last one, yes, everything came instinctively to Castiel, 

Sin, the sin that condemns to clarity. The forbidden subsistence, in other words the forbidden fruit. For the origin symbol, the power was transmitted through the roots of an apple tree. Destroying the tree would be enough and the protective field would inevitably crumble. 

The garden abounded with fruit trees, but the oldest deep-rooted apple tree carried its power deeper into the ground and conveyed its energy more efficiently. 

Destroying the field was one thing, changing it, altering it was another. She prepared in her mind a symbol that she considered powerful enough. 

Closing her eyes, she focused on the apple tree's roots, the imprint they had left behind. In her mind she reached the tree's core. Gradually the sap dried up, a sudden decomposition caused the wood to rot and fall apart. Soon, only a few parts of the bicentenary tree remained on the ground, calcinated. 

Satisfied Castiel made one step forward, then two. She entered the field; it was still resisting. Probably just a residual effect, she thought. Pushing on her legs, with all her strength, resilient, she took a few more steps, in vain. Out of breath, she felt her body stumble. She was giddy, light-headed, small black dots blurred her vision. Something was wrong with her vessel, was it defective or injured? She lost her balance and fall to her knees. 

Putting her free hand on her forehead, with both eyes closed, Castiel tried to get back to reality. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. "Breathe Castiel, breathe”, she thought to herself. 

Little by little the tumult subsided. Only a few minutes had passed, although brief this incident had left Castiel feverish. 

Are you trying to kill yourself little angel? The demon's voice close to her ear caught her by surprise, her lack of control had allowed the demon more freedom. 

-"I...". Her voice sounded hoarse to her. "I don't understand". She didn't understand how her body could fail; how could she be so wrong? She was contemplating for the first time her weakness and that subtle, barely perceptible, nagging sensation. Doubt, she was unable to carry out this mission. Too weak in body and mind. She misjudged her abilities.   
-"The forbidden fruit is not an apple but a quince, I thought it would be obvious to you". The demon's voice appeared distant, vague. A quince, why did she ignore it? 

Luckily the garden contained only one quince tree, barely 17 feet tall.   
Crowley was not sure why, for some reason seeing the angel, back on her feet and proceeding to destroy the tree made him sick. A bitter sensation lingered as he witnessed this extraterrestrial being effortlessly obliterate what nature had taken so long to create. This time he turned his attention away from the scene. 

When the last pieces on the ground finished burning, they both felt the force of the field giving way. Crowley looked furtively at the remains with a certain amount of recoil, a symbol gleamed on the quince tree's carcass, one he interpreted with relative ease: _The end justifies the means_. 

The young man had now reached Castiel. The latter was trying to stay on her feet as best she could. -” So, what now?” He worriedly asked. She ignored his question, gathering all the strength she had left she grabbed his face and forced his jaw open. 

He struggled tooth and nail to get out of her grip, in vain. He scratched her hands as he tried to free himself, he couldn't hold the tears that ran down his cheeks, flooded his face and the angel's fingers, which made her hold somewhat weaker, still she was not letting go. Her free hand pressed against his mouth, soon he felt the demon entering his body. He knew he would lose consciousness again, condemned to passivity while the demon used him as he pleased. The angel lied to him; he would never see his family again.   
  
Castiel watched the demon regain control over the body. Before he was fully in control of himself, she carved the restriction symbol on his chest a second time. The vessel straightened up, his begging eyes soon glowed with the characteristic red of the demons of the crossroads, where he had been cutting himself earlier, only dried blood remained.   
The devil creature took his time to dust off his tattered clothes, but Castiel suspected he wished a moment to collect himself. Meanwhile, she took this opportunity to stand properly despite all her body's craving for rest. The angel abhorred showing such weakness. 

-"You have nothing to envy to Hell pretty little angel I daresay". "Torture, lies, manipulation". Crowley sneered sarcastically. "I, on the other hand, really need to work on myself, I think I've been resting on my laurels for far too long. What do you think?" 

Naturally his question ought to remain purely rhetorical, he expected no answer from the angelic creature and paid her opinion no mind. Besides, he intended to get away as soon as possible while he was still miraculously alive. 

-"The field is reversed, Akobel is trapped. Stay at my disposal, you are hidden from every angel except me. For as long as I need you, you will be hearing my call, don't try to flee under any circumstances". 

The angel's emphatic tone left no room for protest, rarely did, so Crowley took his breath anyway, proceeded to speak, and no one. Vanished.   
Well, well. He wanted to learn some new tricks apparently barking was a first step. 

Only a couple of hours before sunrise, he should find a safe place to rest until the other little bird inside the house gets pulled out of its cage. 

He headed towards the undergrowth. One night under the stars, he hadn't done this for centuries, literally. And never without two or three bottles of Craig. If only he hadn't lost his flask! Bloody angel! 


End file.
